


This Moment

by Kru



Series: of witchers and bards [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blow Jobs, Comfort/Angst, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geraskier Kink Bingo (The Witcher), Hand Jobs, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, LITERALLY, M/M, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Past Abuse, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Shameless Smut, Smut, in a slight way but I promise he is very good now and in very good hands, just a tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kru/pseuds/Kru
Summary: For a moment only their breaths resonate in the chambers. Jaskier’s fast and uneven syncs in and out with the witcher’s, which is already back to its very slow, peaceful rhythm. Outside the day starts to finally wake up. Geralt can feel it even though the lightness that barely appears in the sky. He can hear the very distant hum of the early birds, their constant, happy chatter, and their thrumming flutter of wings. His hand never stops touching Jaskier. He runs his fingers through his hair and traces the shape of his face. And the witcher starts to feel that he might drift off again.“Geralt?” Jaskier suddenly whispers and holds his head up.“Hmm?” the witcher hums in lieu of a question.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: of witchers and bards [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626238
Comments: 62
Kudos: 1021
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to spoil everything in tags, so please read end notes for a warning
> 
> Bated by very patient [locktea](https://locktea.tumblr.com/)
> 
> It happens straight after this one - [Three words. Eight letters.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23754895) so you might want to read it first.
> 
> Wrote for Geraskier Kink Bingo - card B, space “morning sex”
> 
> \---
> 
> I promise that I will do a follow up story with how much other at Kaer Morhen really heard that night. I really do! I just needed to let that one leave my head ;)

It isn’t even bright outside when he feels the movement. It doesn’t wake him up. Not fully at least. But when a ghost of breath skims his face, he’s somewhere below the surface, starting to become more aware of his surroundings.

The first touch only delicately stirs his senses, but he clearly feels warmth close to his lips. Fingertips start to trace their outline. Slowly. Softly. Barely there. Their owner takes his time, learning their shape. Memorizing it. Feeling them. He does it once. Twice. Countless times. Each touch delicate, deliberate, and persistent.

For a moment Geralt wonders if maybe this is just a dream. Maybe it’s just in his head? Maybe he’s here alone? But then the fingertips are gone. He wants to protest in some way, but suddenly he gets something better. Tender lips press to his. The gesture is still gentle. It’s still subtle. It’s there not to stir desire but to taste and to try. Geralt opens up to it and gives in. He lets them take over. Their owner must feel it because he deepens the kiss, tongue slipping in, hot and wet.

Fingers that touched his lips moments ago now come back. They slowly slip under the covers. Gently, so very gently. They skim his shoulders. They stroke the lines of his collarbone. One touch after another that matches the rhythm of how their lips meet. Each touch is also braver. Each touch lingering longer on his skin. Now not only fingertips brush over the lines of Geralt’s muscles but whole digits. The delicate graze of them changes into a firmer touch. They dig deeper as they go lower. And suddenly a whole, warm palm presses into his abdomen. Fingers reach further. They slide inch after inch to finally wrap around his half-hard cock.

“Jaskier,” he says, his voices harsh from sleep.

“Shh,” the man only murmurs somewhere close to Geralt’s ear, “Go back to sleep.”

The witcher knows he can’t. Not now. Not with these skilled fingers slowly moving around him. Not with these eager lips following their path on his skin. But he can keep his eyes closed. He can curl his fists into the sheets. He can focus only on the touch. He can pull all his attention to this one single moment and this one single point on his body and just feel.

Jaskier kisses his way down the witcher’s body. He leaves small, tender, wet marks. His lips are delicate over the roughness of Geralt’s stubble as he moves lower onto his neck. The witcher can imagine how they look now; red, swollen, and full. He wants to open his eyes and draw the man to his lips again but at the same time, the pleasure of what this mouth is doing to him is too great to resist.

The hand that holds him tight never stops but its movements are lazy. Jaskier isn’t in a rush. He takes his pleasure from the almost painfully slow tempo. His finger brushes and skims the base of his cock to then move up in a long stroke. His thumb brushes its head, smearing the precum with the fingertip.

“Fuck,” Geralt hisses quietly, arching under Jaskier to find more contact.

The man smiles around one of his nipples and bites it suddenly. It drags another sound from the witcher’s lungs. It’s strangled, deep and rough as the pleasure overwhelms him for a moment before Jaskier holds his cock in a vice-like grip, not moving an inch.

“Oh no, don’t you dare,” he whispers with a smile reflected in his voice, “Not yet.”

The witcher takes a shuttered breath as he obeys, but he can’t stay passive anymore. As Jaskier’s lips continue their travel, he lets himself slip his fingers into the man’s hair. He does it as delicately as he can. His hand settles first on the nape of Jaskier’s neck and then smoothly slips into the silky, soft strands.

Jaskier huffs hot air into the witcher’s skin as Geralt can’t hold on and lets loose a long sigh. Jaskier’s lips are low now. Just there. He can feel the ghost of their touch. He can feel a little bit of their wetness. And he shouldn’t be so hard. Not after a night like they’ve just had. Not when he’s had Jaskier twice already. But he is, he does, he still wants. He wants this man so much that it’s almost painful.

And Geralt gets him. Suddenly, without warning. He gets Jaskier’s lips. They wrap tightly around his already throbbing cock. He gets his hands spread firmly on his abdomen to hold him down as Jaskier swallows him whole, deep down his throat.

The witcher’s hand leaves the man’s hair. He skims his temple, cups his cheek. The motion is obscenely delicate. Geralt can feel himself through the stretched skin. He fills Jaskier’s mouth, thrusting into it. He tries to control it, he wants to hold on to the moment and feel it completely, but Jaskier has other plans. His lips move fast now. His hands settle on the witcher’s hips, allowing him to move together and meet him halfway. And even if Geralt thinks he wants this to last, his body fully gives up to Jaskier’s will. He thrusts once, twice–

“Fuc-Ja-Jaskier,” he cries, biting his lips as the arches under the other man.

And Jaskier takes him whole again. He takes him deep. Geralt senses his cock throbbing rapidly in the man’s mouth, releasing inside him. The bard swallows it all. He greedily licks up the last drop. And as he does, Geralt opens his eyes. He looks down and sees all that mess. All that disheveled hair. Those swollen, bruised lips. Those glossy eyes that look at Geralt with desperate want.

And Jaskier, with his lips still around his softening cock, is touching himself. He licks him clean, working himself with fast, efficient, and desperate movements. Moaning Geralt’s name, stuttered and broken still with the head of Geralt’s cock in his mouth, begging, and praying to him like a god, he comes. He comes long. He comes all over the witcher’s thighs, hot and streaky. Shuddering. Trembling. And he still whispers Geralt’s name over and over again as he collapses heavily. His cheeks pressed low on the witcher’s lap. Jaskier’s hands close tight around his hips and he just sighs deeply, content and fulfilled.

“Now you can’t deny it,” he starts after a moment, and his voice is rough as he adds, “Sharing a room was a great idea.”

Geralt snorts but his hand slips into the bard’s hair again. He runs his fingers in smooth, soothing motions through soft strands, ruffling them even more.

“I could never imagine it,” he finally says as his fingertips trace the shape of Jaskier’s ear.

“What, that I’m gifted in the art of fellatio?” Jaskier huffs hot air into his skin as he speaks, “You should have known that everyone who’s a good singer can also give great head. It all comes with the tongue,” he adds proudly.

Geralt arches his brows and slowly shakes his head astonished, saying calmly, “No, I meant doing it here, in Kaer Morhen.”

“Ahh,” the bard lets out, understanding.

For a moment only their breaths resonate in the chambers. Jaskier’s fast and uneven syncs in and out with the witcher’s, which is already back to its very slow, peaceful rhythm. Outside the day starts to finally wake up. Geralt can feel it even though the lightness that barely appears in the sky. He can hear the very distant hum of the early birds, their constant, happy chatter, and their thrumming flutter of wings. His hand never stops touching Jaskier. He runs his fingers through his hair and traces the shape of his face. And the witcher starts to feel that he might drift off again.

“Geralt?” Jaskier suddenly whispers and holds his head up.

“Hmm?” the witcher hums in lieu of a question.

And it must work as an invitation because the bard moves up. He rests his hands on the top of Geralt’s chest and then tips his chin on them, asking, “Did you ever try anything with anyone from here?”

The witcher opens his eyes surprised, and lifts his head a little, looking down at the man.

“No,” he says, not moving his gaze off of Jaskier’s face, waiting.

“Why?” Jaskier asks, wincing as he says, “You were young and they were, well… They still are fine-looking examples of the male species. Not as much as you, of course. You are devilishly handsome, but still, why not?”

Geralt huffs out a short laugh and lets his head hit the pillow again.

“There wasn’t...” he starts to say and then tries to remember how everything felt back then, finally settling for, “Not after what we went through.”

“You never speak about it,” the bard says persistently, “You never tell me about your childhood here.”

Geralt hums again and his hand stops its trail in the man’s hair. He looks at the ceiling, the same one he looked at all those years ago when he didn’t know shit about life and what it would bring to him. Back then he knew only pain and exhaustion. Back then he thought that love was just a fairytale. How so much has changed since then, he thinks suddenly.

With that thought, he moves up and props his hand behind his head to settle more comfortably and be able to look at the other man.

“I don’t remember much,” he finally answers and then adds after a bit. “And the parts I do remember aren’t pleasant to hear.”

“We talked about this,” Jaskier warns him. “I won’t run away.”

“Will you turn this into one of your songs?”

Jaskier smirks, looking at the witcher with mocked indignation as he asks, “Do you have me for some cheap piper who earns his coins by selling secrets that belong to others?”

Geralt arches his brows in an unspoken question.

“Alright, alright,” the bard gives up and adds with a brazen smile, “I might give out a few of our secrets with two or three songs, but those weren’t truly private information!”

The corner of the witcher’s mouth quirks up when he says, “Our last adventure in the brothel isn’t private enough?”

“That one was spectacular,” Jaskier announces. “It would have been a shame to keep it to ourselves. Besides I changed names and–” he stops suddenly and looks suspiciously at Geralt, asking, “Are you trying to sidetrack me?”

Geralt only shrugs, smiling openly and explains, “You get easily distracted when sex is involved.”

The bard scowls and the witcher can see how he decides on something very fast. He swiftly moves up and bites into Geralt’s lips. The kiss is rapid and without Jaskier’s usual nicety. And the impetuosity of it makes the witcher respond to it instantly. He opens his lips and Jaskier licks in, claiming him. He tastes like Geralt, like the night they spent together touching, fucking, and absorbing each other. And just when Geralt wants to give in further, when he brings the man closer for more, closing his arms around him, the bard rapidly pulls back. The witcher can’t help it. He chases after those lips. He chases after Jaskier. But the bard only puts his palm on Geralt’s chest, pushing him away.

“You’ll get another one when you stop avoiding my questions,” he says smugly.

Geralt huffs, irritated, and doesn’t think much on his next move. He catches Jaskier’s wrist and uses it to pull him closer. The bard makes a strangled noise just before the witcher attacks to smoothly roll them over and catch his lips again. Jaskier’s hands are suddenly trapped on both sides of his arms, pinned to the bed by two massive hands. Geralt presses the man to the furs, immediately pushing his legs aside to lean in further and restrain Jaskier’s body with his own.

He kisses Jaskier hard. He kisses him in waves. The long, strong thrust of his tongue that rips small whimpers from the bard’s throat every time the witcher allows him to take a small breath. Geralt’s body moves in the same rhythm. He pushes harder with every kiss, thrusting and rolling his hips. And Jaskier melts below him. He feels that with every motion the man just relaxes to take him more. His legs wrap around Geralt’s waist, pulling him in, impossibly close. And at this very moment, the witcher decides to pull back. He suddenly moves up, leaving Jaskier completely disorientated.

“I’ll have what I want,” he says low and calm, staying inches above Jaskier as he adds, “When I want.”

“Gods,” the bard breaths out, holding Geralt’s gaze as he smiles and whispers, “It’s unfair how much I love you.”

The witcher freezes at those words. He looks at the man below him, still not used to those words, and the thought that someone might feel like that for him. He looks at these red, wet lips. He watches how Jaskier bites them. How his long lashes throw shadows at blushed cheeks. How his neck is flushed from the burn of Geralt’s stubble. How his gaze is all glossy with want and filled with something more, something that Geralt can’t fully describe. And he still can’t comprehend that all these belong to him. That it’s only his to claim and want.

He lets out a shuttered breath as he allows his head to drop. Letting Jaskier’s wrists free, he lowers himself. His forehead rests on the other man’s chest. His hands slide under the bard’s sides to bring him closer when he inhales again and closes his eyes, feeling that Jaskier’s scent isn’t his own anymore. He’s become the sum of both of them, mingling together to become one. Geralt wonders if the same could be said of his own.

“Geralt, what’s wrong?” the bard asks with concern playing in his voice.

But he can’t answer. Not now, when he doesn’t trust his voice. When he knows that all these feelings everyone thinks he shouldn’t feel, suddenly burst inside him and make him unable to even move.

And when he stays silent, he feels long fingers slowly slipping into his hair. Jaskier drags them through his tangled strands, pushing his fingertips into the skin of his scalp.

“Talk to me, Geralt,” he insists, eventually settling his hands lightly on his temples.

The witcher takes another deep breath and finally says, “I’m happy.”

“That’s good, I think?” Jaskier asks, laughing nervously. “Or not?”

Geralt only hums, smiling into the man’s skin. He drags his nose along the line of Jaskier’s torso, taking another long, dragging inhale of his scent. Jaskier’s fingers tighten between his strands, pulling him even closer and partially guiding Geralt up his body and to the crook of his neck.

“Is this a witchery thing?” Jaskier finally whispers, running his fingers down the witcher’s shoulders as he adds. “Because I’ve never been with someone who has liked to sniff me that much.”

Geralt moves up, looking at the bard amused as he says, “I just like how you smell.”

“So, other witchers don’t do it?”

The witcher smirks, settling more comfortably along the other man’s side.

“Most of us only endure two trials,” he starts to speak, resting his head against his hand to be able to look at the other man when he continues, “But during the Trial of Dreams, something happened with me. They could evoke the trance, but the results weren’t fulfilling. They decided that they’d try something else.”

Jaskier also turns on his side and looks at Geralt with concern, asking, “Do you think this is the reason you’re more sensitive to scents?”

“Maybe,” the witcher agrees and adds quickly. “But I’m not sure. When I finally came to my senses again, the world around me was different. Suddenly, I could see details that weren’t there before. I could smell things from miles away and recognize traces of their particular components. I could smell the chemicals that the human body produces when they feel certain emotions. But then again, I guess we all can do it to a certain extent.”

“Well, the others don’t go around sniffing me,” Jaskier wonders aloud. “So, I’m not so sure about that.”

Geralt looks at him sharply, possessively murmuring, “They better not.”

“But they can tell when we have sex?”

“Probably,” the witcher assumes. “If they’d look for those traces of scent.”

“Don’t you exchange your experiences?” the bard questions further and when Geralt shakes his head, he adds, “How can you not exchange information about this? This is crucial knowledge, Geralt. These could be ear-catching lines for my ballads.”

The witcher sighs, wincing as he says, “We don’t like to talk about this.”

“Oh,” Jaskier only expresses, closing his mouth and Geralt can see that suddenly his cheeks are covered by a blush when he adds slowly, “I-I didn’t-I’m sorry.”

“Everything was experimental. Everyone went through a slightly different process, because none of us reacted exactly the same.” Geralt explains calmly. “But the one common factor was that the people who conducted those trials didn’t care if we came out alive.”

“I heard stories about the Witchers’ trials. How only three boys in ten survive them,” the bard admits quietly and Geralt can see that he holds the pillow tighter under his head. His knuckles go white and his voice carries traces of anger when he asks, “Those experiments… Were they worse than the Trial of the Grasses?”

Geralt snorts and smiles bitterly, adding, “Yeah, much worse. I don’t even know how long they took. I’d been unconscious for days or even weeks. Vomiting, shitting myself, and then vomiting more. The pain –” he stops suddenly and drops his gaze, still feeling too uncomfortable to admit it.

He looks at the shapes of furs, how it tugs along Jaskier’s body, but he doesn’t see them. What he sees right now are the shapes in the darkness. Those outlines of people leaning over him, chanting, screaming at him. Those people who made him what he is right now.

He winces at that vague memory and finally huffs out, “It felt like every bone in my body, every tendon and every vein had been ripped, broken and split open and then rebuilt again.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispers, and before the witcher’s gaze finds him again, the man moves closer.

The bard instantly wraps himself around the witcher, aligning his warm body to Geralt’s shape. All liquid and soft in his arms, he pushes his face into the crook of the witcher’s neck, taking a shuddered breath.

“I’m sorry they did this to you,” he says very quietly.

Geralt hides a small smile into the hot skin of the man’s shoulders as he only hums an acknowledgment. He wraps his arms around Jaskier tighter and thrusting his leg between his thighs, he tangles their legs together and brings them even closer. Pressing his open palms into the bard’s back, he pushes his nose in the soft spot behind Jaskier’s ear to inhale his scent in a long, deep breath.

“Don’t be,” the witcher finally murmurs, “It’s not your fault the world is shit.”

“Not at this moment,” Jaskier whispers.

“No, not at this moment,” Geralt agrees with him but before he can add anything, he suddenly hears a rumbling sound that comes deep from the bard’s stomach.

Jaskier swiftly moves back in the witcher’s arms, eyes glancing towards the door to the hallway, and the other witchers beyond that, “Do you think the others also heard that?”

“I doubt that,” Geralt answers flatly. “But I bet they heard you this morning. And the concert you gave through the night.”

“Do you think they will let it go?”

Geralt snorts and simply says, “One can dream.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lately I feel really down and exhausted so I tried to go back to drawing (I haven't done it for a few years) and maybe get a grip over my emotions... And of course my brain went to this place - Geralt as always enchanted by Jaskier's scent.

(For more of my wither'y content come over to - <https://leeeeeex.tumblr.com/>)


	3. (kind of) Epilogue

Hi there! 

So, I know that some of you have been waiting for a morning (after) after of this story :)

The good news is that it's here, but the bad news is that I didn't know how to post it, so I made a separate instalment. Now I also know that some of you subscribe to this one and so I just wanted to let you know that you can find the continuation under the link here:

[Of Hangover, Monsters and Bets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122558)

I hope you are going to like it!

Yours Lex / Kru

XXX


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another visualization in between new stories I create for all of you :)  
> Btw this story is somehow very close to my heart. It helped me to go through some stuff on my own and I dream to think that it can help to someone else too!

**Author's Note:**

> There is a brief description of the witchers' trails that are brutal in their nature so it might be slightly triggering - still it's not long and mostly happens somewhere by the end, so it might be omitted.


End file.
